9th Marine Scout Recon Battalion: From death To Destiny
by Nerita Emporos
Summary: In a rare circumstance, a highly decorated Blood Angel Captain is asked to assume direct control of a newly created Ultramarines scout battalion. His past haunts him as he reluctantly turns fresh recruits into hardened warriors such as his brethren Blood Angels. As he develops his men, they to will reshape this Sternguard Veteran and his view of the world


Chapter 1

Fading Memories

As I lay in wait, the silence worries me – Cpt. Nerita, Ultramarines

Not much is hidden from my men, I know as much about them as they know about me, were brothers in every sense. If you ask them, they will all say I was a teacher, an instructor at the university, but that's a lie, I had to say something; they were asking too many questions. In reality I was an instructor, an instructor of death. Before being assigned to the 9th Marine Scout Recon Battalion I was a member of the Blood Angels, in my mind the pinnacle of the Emperors legions. I am called many names, Captain, Nerita, Hruby, and by my closest friends Ivan, but to some of the Blood Angels I was the patriarch of death, at times I was revered as an equal to Sanguinius, but rumors lead on that I was better, and they're true. I have spent many nights on the planet Terra, the turning point of the Horus Heresy, nothing satisfies me more than the smell of diesel fuel burning, the roar of engines, the scream of close artillery falling short of its target, the feeling of a severed spine from a single swipe of the chainsword, the pure essence that is war. These men are recruits, little more than fresh meat into the grinder, but I won't give up on them, they are my replacements when I pass. I am the new commanding officer of the 9th Marine Scout Recon Battalion of the Ultramarines, lucky me.

It's been days since I've heard a weapon fire, this planet will kill me, I'm a soldier bred for war and nothing more. I suppose it's not all bad, three warm meals a day, running water, hell; I can even nap during the day without worrying about an attack. Slowly I drift off, dreaming of my home when Sgt. Kinzler walks in. "Captain, enemy movement to the west!" how many are there I ask, he slowly looks over his shoulder, I can tell he has seen little combat. I get up and grab my bolter and walk to the west, watching my men rush to their positions. I grab one private as he stumbles and drops his weapon, "easy son, the enemy will still be there in a few minutes". His eyes are like sabers, cutting through me, he's scared, possibly for the first time in his life. I wave my hand as several men run towards me, signaling them to follow me. As I run I keep scanning my surroundings, looking for an ambush, a sniper, an artillery spotter, anything to get me back in the heart of the action, but I see nothing. We keep running to the west, approaching the defilade near an abandon factory. Hopping down in the trench I approach Sgt. Kinzler, "setup four teams of three and spread fifty yards apart facing south-southwest!" We have little time; I lie down and scan the horizon, looking for the first enemy, both to destroy and to identify our opponent. Watching, my men are anxious, many are restless because this is there first time since training they have live rounds and living enemies to eliminate. The wind howls over our armor, the dried fields stir with dust and animals fleeing from what will soon become a hallowed field of death and fear. As we lay in wait a scout to my right has a sniper rifle, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing, so I assume command of his weapon. Taking aim, the horizon shows little signs of movement, I am both grateful and disappointed, my men will live another day, but lack combat readiness. As I give the all clear, several of my men stand from there cover in the trench, I should have seen it coming. The piercing scream deafens them, a wave of raveners burst from the ground just yards in front of our line, ripping my men apart where they stand. My men panic, some try and run, I let out a cry to hold ground but they too are quickly devoured. "Hold the line, they shall not advance!" I shout to my men as I let loose with the sniper rifle in my hands, the kraken and hellfire rounds pierce the thick caripus enveloping them. As the enemy numbers grow my men seek salvation amidst the chaos in me, fire until we run dry is all I can say. The raveners fall back, but the skies begin to blacken, and my heart sinks. "Fall back!" I scream as I leap from the trench, the graves of many unfortunate men. Sergeant Kinzler is at my side as we run, he seems confident, until he sees the terror in my eyes. "What are we retreating for captain, we have them on the run" he yells as the skies grow darker, they're getting closer. We are in desperate need of air support, artillery, anything to provide a shroud of safety to fall back deeper into friendly territory. As I look to the heavens, I spot the first of many gargoyles raining down upon us. I stop and begin firing, anything to slow their advance towards us. My men keep running past me, a few stop and I throw them back to join the others, no man should die this way, not with such a long life ahead of many of them. As I continue what would have been our final stand, Sgt. Kinzler and I are swept with relief as our headsets come to life. "Well, well, well, how many times will I save your life Captain"? I breathe a sigh of relief, "Captain Welker I presume?" As we gaze at the endless swarms of gargoyles, a squadron of thunderhawk gunships rip through the clouds and enemy, and so it begins again. I motion to sergeant Kinzler and we continue to fall back with our men. As we close the distance between our rear echelons, the sounds of thunderfire cannons and heavy bolters are a glorious anthem to our ears, or so we thought.

Running up the ridge, the rattle of bolters is matched by that of screams, any numbers of enemies come to mind to incite these blood curdling screams. With our final steps Sgt. Kinzler and I gaze upon the rear echelon, that is, what's left of it. Thousands of termagants infest our perimeter, their fleshborer rifles strip my men from armor to bone, a sight Sgt. Kinzler cannot bear, he looks away, both in disgust and respect. "Hruby, were approaching from the east, gun run over your position before circling around to deploy land raiders north by northwest, how copy?" breaks the silence as Captain Welker roars over the sound of autocannon turrets into our comms. "Confirm, deploy 150 meters north by northwest of our locator beacon, and Captain, bring Tia." is my response as I motion to Sgt. Kinzler to run back into the swarm of gargoyles. "Captain, we cannot leave the perimeter, the enemy will overrun our landing pads!" he yells to me, he doesn't realize the safest place is as far from their objective as possible. There I yell, a line of trees off 70 meters in the distance, this is where we will place our beacon. The thunderhawk gunships begin their flyby, the autocannons and heavy bolters echo for miles with the intensity of a million men's war cries, shredding the enemy with extreme prejudice. "Hand me the beacon" I yell, just barely heard over the shriek of fire from the gunships standing next to the sergeant. "What beacon?" he replies as the roar of the ships drowns out his voice, his facial expression and hand gestures show great despair at the realization the one piece of equipment that is our salvation he cannot provide. "Captain Welker, change in plans, we are on the west side of the tree line 200 meter out from objective alpha, drop the land raiders and proceed with secondary gun run, how copy?". The radios are silent; the skies are blackened, the moment of silence amidst chaos frightens a hardened sternguard veteran such as myself. "sshhhh…. Approach is scammsssh… hold tigssshh" is all I can make out, the enemy has disabled our relay so all radios are useless between air and ground; we can only pray he heard us in time. Lying prone with the sergeant, our bolters face east towards the enemy, an uneasy feeling as we have run dry of primary ammunition and are down to our bolter pistols, I've got a better chance of throwing it and hitting an enemy than shooting accurately. "Sir, what are we waiting for?" the sergeant impatiently asks, our savior I reply. Sighting my sniper rifle, the termagants run rampant, but something catches my eye, Tyranid Warriors. I show no fear, I have encountered these beasts before, though I do not wish to remember the men I've lost to these retched creatures I am brought back by the forgotten voice in my head.

"Ivan, you've got warriors inbound, were right on top of you, Tia and I are inbound!" rings over my comms, Captain Welker and his Terminator regiment have reemerged into the fight. "Sergeant!" I yell, "leave the bolters and follow me!" I command, we have to get to the edge of the tree line or risk being crushed by falling equipment. As we run the earth shakes beneath our feet, it's one of two things, though I fear it's what I predict. Raveners burst through the earth's crust before us; we are thrown to our knees as they pour out. Looking up I reach for my bolter pistol, better to die fighting than die willingly, the sergeant, in fear and faith, follows his instinct and does the same. As we take aim at the dozens of enemies a wall of heavy bolter fire tears through them. Looking to the west, the land raiders have landed as the ships scream past the tree line with feet to spare, unleashing a devastating barrage of fire upon the enemy before taking to the skies and away from this god forsaken planet. "On your feet sergeant, you do not have my permission to die today" I yell over the sound of diesel engines. Standing before the tree line, what remains after the heavy bolters have leveled them, I seek out Captain Welkers vehicle. Scanning the vehicles, I run towards the land raider adorned with banners, Captain Welker always did have a flare for dramatic entrances, though circumstantially, he was saving my life during most of them. "Hruby, relieve the commander of Dorothy, take your sergeant and push towards the objective, maybe there are some men still alive" he shouts from atop Tia, his personal stead into battle. Scaling the side of a land raider, I reach the commanders hatch and pound on it. Slowly he opens it and looks at me; silently he understands and jumps down and into a heavy bolter sponson. "Sergeant, either fight on your tired feet or fight in my steel beast" is my final command before signaling forward to the driver. Nothing satisfies me more than the smell of diesel fuel burning, the roar of engines, and fresh belts of hellfire rounds in my heavy bolters. Surely this will be different than the siege of savoy I say to myself, this time, I am in command and I will not fail, I cannot fail by the blood of Sanguinius!


End file.
